found and lost

Things found are sometimes those things you've forgotten, you've forgotten because you were unaware, or preoccupied or uninterested at the moment of it being in your possession, sometimes the forgotten things are the best things to find, sometimes they are the things you cant believe you've been doing with out and there you could have been all this time if only you'd open your eyes and look the things in their eyes just to remember them, it just takes a second to do so, and it could save you years of unaware searching.

We're all always Talking, Yapping, And Blabbing. Me I talk, and Yap, and Blab, more than anyone, but no one listens, except for myself, the self who I'm not, the self who also listens to anything anyone will say, just to intake speech, and patterns, and lisps, and accents, and Twain's, just to learn.

Lets all Yak a little less and listen a little more, and DO just a little bit more, and learn nothing unless its taught. Scratch that, NO, lets all Yak as much as we can, lets all listen only as much as we can till we're through listening and we cant listen no more, lets all learn what we haven't been taught, and lets all do just that.

Traveler's choose, wanderer's land.

I have been pedestrian for the better part of this year now, inconvenient yes, but its been easy going, what with living in a beach city and all.

Don't mind the walks, sometimes tens of miles worth a day, sites and sounds coming at you and your walking through 'em makes a wake in the city's aura, it gets kinda tunnell-y sometimes specially if you stop at every drink dispensary. If you want to experience your day however, this is the way to do it.

Now I've never been one to neglect the art of being lazy, activity just sits well when you have time to waste with no television. NPR and a pair of headphones make for better company anyway.

Writing post cards and smoking black and mild's. I get complaints from recipients of said postcards, "the mail takes too long" and such, they would rather I use the Internet for communicates, this is fine, if you don't mind the lack of charm.

All this convenience might be partly to blame for America's people's having trouble with their weight, there was a time when you'd have to walk a little even to listen to music. Records. They will require you to flip a disc and to do so you'll have to walk to the machine, but now with all these pod's and Internet radio box's and multi digital disc playing devices this is been put into obsolete-en ism (this might not be a word).

Convenience has led to some real world crisis, jobs are being lost to the convenience of the Internet and the ease of credit card's, Me I like my news in paper form I take my quarters to a dispenser every morning, but I cant say this is true for the rest of America, and I don't blame 'em but I wish people would see past convenience once in a while, go to a store a real store brick and mortar (or wood and stucco as the times may provide), rent your movies from a place a real place a destination type joint, get your clothes somewhere I mean SOMEWHERE as in a place somewhere, a location, go through their doors touch their goods and try something on.

Under paved surfaces

Dirt so loose it sticks with you on your shoes on your clothes, in the denim of your jeans, the scent of it becomes your scent, you begin to believe its part of your vision, dirt so loose it becomes a part of your look for a few days, it begins to affect your sea worthiness, and just as you were regaining you land worthiness, this could make for a dangerous limbo. (Just a little water to the shoes fixed this for me but I cant say it will be every ones fix.)
Reaching the location was a caper no tourist should attempt their was an easy way but convenience trumps it every time. under a major highway the sounds can get nauseating so its good to counter balance said nauseating with drinks that contain at least some part alcohol. traveling light is a good idea also.
A distinguished young lady yanks and rips at a pull cord sends a heavy piece of gasoline powered machinery in a violent job accomplishing rumble she walks away and back to the group well postured and calm as if she hadn't just provided power for an entire town of shanty's.
Men lit only by dimly glowing strings of decorative light down in the dusties of the ground, set up archaic analog gizmo's some recognizable some not, some technically advance and some that need a kick start.
Soon enough they begin to make noise and the clashing of the wind breaking vehicles above and the howling of the angst and desperation from their devices and amplifiers unwittingly become a tune.
Poised and collected the man who brought me here an acquaintance from the city in the woods I once resided in assured me as to the normalcy of this whole seen and I took to agreeing with him even though we were most obviously in a part of the city where the sun don't shine to often.

Before to long Katmandu showed up and whisked me and the westsider (a man about town) to a gathering the Westsider knew off, the place was crawling with beautifull women but the walls were caked in trouble. The kinda of trouble you could have fall over on you when you're a white guy and two brown guys at an Asian gang meeting. Soon and surely enough shots rang out and we were forced to scale a wall in a hasty retreat hands and tennis shoes flying all over the place and the sounds of well landed jumps mashed with the sounds of those not so well executed boys urging others to "Bounce" and girls asking for help up. In the shuffle the westsider was lost replaced instead by fleeing underagers who were just nimble enough to get over the wall in time with us. Asians throw one hell of a party to bad you have to leave before the bullets fly back down to earth.

Help Wanted not Needed

walking the sun damaged streets of the ghetto, rubber of your shoes sticky on the once gray pavement now stained with the scum of the ages, stench of street life wafting out the alley ways assaulting your senses, sound of oppression ringing in your ear echoing off the walls howling at you from every direction North South East and West, and all you know is your standing here aware that if you don't start moving you'll likely be there all day, but when they ask, all's you know, is you don't know nothing.

Returned but not Rewound

Hello Internet, I'm fucking back baby.


Job searches are amazing when done properly, a good start is walking and not driving, Also be sure to ignore all conveniences, such as resume posting website and Internet classifieds etc... .
Not that those methods should not be applied, just avoided.
I walked a busy downtown street and entered every tourist trap restaurant and every well kept bar. I rode every open to the public office building elevator and chatted with as many neatly groomed receptionists as I could coheirs into humoring me.
A good crash course on social interactions and human behaviral patterns. The way the goattied hosts in the fitted shirts and expensive slacks at restaurants will always be quick with a business card or an application form so as to get you out the way and make room for patrons, but the immaculately dressed candy eyed girls with the premeditatedly well exposed cleavage give you the fake smiles and phony overly accommodating voice walk away from their post to ask someone else who knows what only to come back several minutes later with either no information or an explanation about how someone else had to tell them the paper work they are looking for is right in front of them.

Much Ado

Little to do, failed practice turned promo walk on a Sunday (of course, the day designated by baby Jesus for musicians to use as excuse for excess use of illicit substance).

Sunny, warm, breezy, alive ahhh dah beach. Katmandu and I run a few errands before feeding ourselves we crawl up to the studio all the way by the foot of the hill, with plans of artistic expressions and creative explosions. FOILED! by the the Heavy metal band rehearsing in the room down the hall (which coincidently was the one Katmandu used to occupy, also coincidently its the smallest and poorest sound insulated one) so we let the recording equipment hum and had a couple drinks (NewCas ICE COLD) and a few puffs from the robot weed pipe usually reserved for novelty uses.

This was good warm up for our meal at a place which according to its name is the Star of the famous Thailandese capitol, I ask the guy at the door for “the most romantic table you’s got up in here” he sat us in a dim lit corner table by the indoor fountain. the food was as usual from the place delicious. Ambiance however was uncomfortably quite, this may have been due to our choice seating (or maybe the fact that the food there is so good patrons rarely come up from there plates for air). We exchanged a few dirty jokes but the silence was still powerful, until our luck struck and the golden girls and their boy toy (geriatric as he may have been) sat there comfortably sweat panted asses right next to us.

Next spot we hit was the liquor store, then we went to Katmandu's place of employment to usurp office supply we printed up flyer for an upcoming show, a few dozen, grabbed a couple electric staplers and some tape, we mapped out our path to include pit stops at our favorite haunts (all dives). First however an attempt at mind expansion, The dollar bookstore a recent Long Beach landmark which is said to be shelved by a pack rat junkie, and by the looks of its organizing (or lack of) I would definitely go ahead and believe that. Inside said book store we ran into a redheaded drummer boy of NASA S.U. fame and he put us on a show, albeit on a Tuesday and at a restaurant / bar drenched in hipness. But its that they thought of us that matters, …right?

We made our way through the beach streets posting unlawfully and stopping for the occasional drink and scheming session. our latest scheme talking one of the dive bars into tossing us in their juke box. I love being a beach city kid, I hope current and younger generations of such areas, enjoy themselves and their surroundings as much.

Last minutes, but not first timers

Shoot It up plays the place on seventh across the street from the seven E. This happened a few weeks back on a Sunday  that fell sometime in the last month or maybe a Saturday some thing with an ‘S’ and on the weekend.
The young Hispanic front man of  Weekend Warriors Put us on the bill on the eleventh hour on a count of a drop out or something I think I don’t know. We played it.

i am drunk and i need a break from life so though i know i haven't written in here on here over here what ever the correct syntax is you insert it here, so what I'm busy, no one's reading this any way I'm going to leave this in here too, and I'll pick it back up and finish later fuck you

…many days later;

We did plenty of drinking of course and like a chump I agreed to allowing my buddies to leave their bags in the vehicle I was using for the night and of course I was carted off drunk by a third party so my buddies shit lived in my garage for a month before I finally returned others possessions.

This night was one in which me and the boys were at the peak of our offensiveness though we dint seem to notice it ourselves, apparently though we are a little racist plenty sexist and homophobic to boot, and on top of this my buddy J the game man thought it was a brilliant idea to give me a giant piece of beef jerky in front of a bunch of vegan crust “punks” (which really translates more into loud electric music loving hippies if you ask me) . I don't even know where to begin with our defense from these accusations so i wont.

on a lighter note we made a fan this same night this encounter was I’m embarrassed to say not the first time I been kissed by a man and definitely the first time by a stranger. Didn’t see it coming, definitely not pleasant but I’m sure the intentions were of the best. The guy was dragged away by his girlfriend in rage, I don't think his night went to well after that she looked like a bottle thrower.

 

(occurrences from February 21st)

The strive for perfection

Brings me and my buddy Katmandu together on this drizzly night en-route to rehearsal, he picked me up in his blandly colored classically eighties jalopy, we swiftly filled the vehicle with sound equipment, booze and ill natured devices with which to light and intake elicit medically obtained organic substance.
thee vehicle was packed and the doors were squeezed to a close. People often scuff at me over me use of booze and other such such’es and things. I know you don't drink and drive or drive and drink or any other variation of these acts, but Katmandu has himself and American driving license and he owns his own vehicle and so when I passenger with him I do as the rules require, besides the trip ahead was to be a long one, on account of my recent relocation away from the beach and into the woods. We were on our way to Nixon's hometown our boom stick man decided his home would be the best location for the racket, which sounded good to us since we had hopes of perhaps also wasting some time on a new project for use at a blues night held at a booze serving burger joint, we're calling it the river raft boys, or possibly the river rat boys, hopes are high.

On the road we enjoyed well chilled solid east coast cheapie style beer and a really fine strain of greens it was a good trip though definitely long.

We got to the pirate ship on the hill and went about un-loading and setting up and returning some long sense borrowed stuff I had used in the garage for the shows, we had a smoky conversation over a few bowls worth of devils lettuce. the boom stick guy showed off his new turtle we poked fun of course, this guy’s been rescuing animals left and right he now has an overly wound up Chihuahua and an emotionally crippled Chihuahua AND an abandoned turtle not of the teenage, mutant, or ninja variety, but rather of the “red slider” type whatever that is.

We finally got down to it everything went dully well, we didn’t even try at the turnstile set for fear we would do it well. We didn't get around to the blues project since we had to take our leave while Katmandu was “feeling it” .

On our journey back we found ourselves having to cope with terrible night drivers you know the sort, don't signal to change lanes keep next to you when you try and change lanes follow you with their noses right up inside your ass with there high beams on nearly fusing with you in a merging lane ’cos they just absolutely have to be in front of you. God damn sons of bitches your making me spill my drink.

(this was February fifth 2010)

Sailin' and Movin'

on the stale choppy port waters behind the jetties. Drinkin' smokin' generally West coastin'.
Saturday the ninth, January 2010 my band, Inazuma, and the Runts (and a fourth mystery band, who's name I didn't catch on a count of my inebriation, but who's two Sublime covers I really really enjoyed).
The beginnings of the night were of course covered in hitches. The whole house carpooled that was an undertaking, since everyone decided that malt liquor in forty ounce bottles and tall cans of energy booze were meant to be shaken up together into the same forty ounce bottle (kinda a James B. meets the forty thing , you know "shaken' not stirred".) The chemical reaction of this action you can imagine was a messy one, good thing its all hard flooring, wood slash tile, and of course the drunkenness from these classiest of cocktail treats was a fervent one.

This was all fine and dandy as I had received a phone call to go ahead and not worry about being there too early or even on time on a count of the boats good captain had come down with a case of inebriation of his own.
The boat was initially uneventful we parked by the tourists and walked down past all the shiny new capacity packed attractions (there's a new comedy club chain down there i must patronise soon) the place is awfully populated these days, they should try and spread some of that enthusiasm around the place a little more evenly.

Got to the slip and was thrown into dealing with the problem of having to much equipment(weird i know) so we threw a bunch of drums on an extra sail boat anchored next door to ours, the removal of which became a real undertaking at the end of the night.

We loaded up the boat and after a quick in case of emergency situation briefing and a surgeon general authorised death warning we were off. Which triggered the dropping of the first Dramamine and the end of the first doobie. I voiced my concerns about the choppy conditions of the sea, I was promptly made informed of our coordinates not being out of the harbor yet. The view back towards the beach even just a few hundred yards away was amazing, surely this was enhanced by my condition.

The first band began to ring out I don't remember there name but they had a floor show, a girl with an l.e.d. lit glowing hula hoop she had all sorts of moves and tricks that shoulda served to make her sick with all the boats motion but she held, these guys had a few jazz numbers and a few ska numbers highlighted by a couple well placed and well mimicked Sublime covers much appreciated by the crowd (as admittedly pretentious and elitist as they might have been(me included).

The intermission: Un-eventful. I was with the Runts gang so the occurrences were of course of delinquent nature(I should be outlawed, me and adolescents should not be allowed to congregate).

The Runts played here, The one with the guitbox handed me some fancy peace of techno gadgetry this thing even had its own set of scissors and a corkscrew, it was set to record and all I had to do was hold it, figuerin' I was competent enough I accepted the position and all duties that accompany it. I took the recordimajig held it level to the strike zone of the sound and braced the old long and slender's (me legs) to ride out the "oceans motion" I held well for the first few, maybe three or four, then I was struck by one of the rowdies a Familiar one. This threw me off my balance axis I rolled right, I stumbled left, I recovered my perch. Then I was whacked again from the same direction by the same Bogey, and wouldn't you know it the recordimajig flew, hit the deck and ejected its batteries. How embarrassing, the red in my eye was matching my face. The energy these guys emit is definite and potent, they make the crowd rowdie raviness and wet with cum, always. I don't know what possessed me to believe i would be able to keep on my feet's.

Second intermission: Eventful. By this Point I was many drinks in and approaching the end of what may have been the fifth or sixth doobie with a couple guys I met aboard the vessel, one of the gentlemen was enjoying the salty ocean air with great fanaticism he confessed, poetically, his affinity for its scent, a beautiful set of rhyming words created from love and spontaneity. I was quick to liken it to "old pussy". I pardoned myself and proceeded to the designated vomit expulsion area, ran into one of the roommates the one who lives in the view room, also in the grips of a volatile conversation with the sea.

Came up for air to news of it being our turn to bat, all went as if we'd lacked to plan. The Usual banter to start. The turnstile set went surprisingly well, with minimal stumblin'. The usually unbalanced ratio of drinkin' to "performin' " also showed improvement. one of the Norwalkians had a Jerry Rice banner, Our plan to raise popular opinion of #80 is showing signs of success.

Third intermission: Different from the first. Second Dramamine un-inventoried drink start of ninth doobie(if you count the one that went around during our set). The seats were full of woo'ers court'ers and romantic's, the tiny bar surrounded by story tellers and musically inclined drunks, the deck covered in noise making equipment and good time Charlies pedelin' goods. the place looked like a colony of colonies of chaos with smaller colonies of chaos with in, no one colonies wake crashin' or overlapping, unprecedented harmony. All the while around us in the misty ocean night this poem inducing beauty. it was a wonderful time to be intoxicated (on a boat).

Last and certainly not least Inazuma, A gang of rock and roll samurai. As they tend to do they were awesome all on perfect time and every tune struck out with un-intended coolness, artfully directed energy. Rock and roll.

All entertainment duties done we were left to our devices, all our devices were rapidly drenched in alcohol, cheers and toast and well wishing were casually tossed around. It may have been the promiscuous use of liquor what made the trip back to shore a quick one. The clearing the boat was less quick. Slowly drunks and other debachaurists were hand delivered to the unloading ramp, once on the slip and of the boat all concerns of keeping people from becoming submerged barnacles were abandoned recklessly. Our attention turned to getting drums off a loosely anchored sailboat. the thing was wobbly to say the least and each peace I tried to maneuver off the thing felt bulkier than the last, so I gave up and went about collecting my troop.

The trip home: un-eventful. The walk back to the car found us traversing the same beaten path as we did to our engagement, the area was still lively we stopped for drinks at a couple places on the way not much memorable about this joints all similar except in facade, under dressed women with terrible speech patterns and men wearing overpriced undersized T-shirts with a serious misconception of how interested others are in paying attention to them and or their possessions.

once re grouped and pile into the compact four door hatchback we drove off only to run right into an after hours taco stand, Delicious. piled into the compact four door hatchback once more, drove off once more, "home or bust" was the general consensus. Ran right into a twenty four hour donut shop, OJ, maple bars, and breakfast stuffed croissants. Tummy's stuffed and night at its end and land loving in full swing it was clear that the one who lives in the front was leaving this excursion with the contents of his stomach intact, a real feat, especialy considering we were coming off a sea trip.

Back on the road, drove past an infuriating scene a scene we all have witnessed and been peeved about. one guy in one car (an early nineties jalopy of Japanese origin) four police interceptors, so this is at least eight officers and possibly a dog(considering they all ride partnered at this time of night, morning if your into technicality). Now this is already to long and probably wont be posted for even longer so I don’t want to get to much into it but, What the fuck.

why do they need this amount of man power for the one guy, yeap just one guy one solo mother fucker on the curb hand cuffed behind the back and all possessions on display on the roof of his car like a yard sale in the middle if a minor flood.

there’s no rational reasoning here no humanity, what is this guy maybe a dui if he was he couldn’t have been to hard to control he seemed pretty tame when I saw him, he couldn’t have weighed more than a buck and a half and wasn’t a basketball player.

what is he a drug lord with the store bought glass pipe and the tube of medi. pot on the roof.

Did you all need to concentrate every spotlight you have at the highest setting on the guy too, REALLY.

And now we all have to merge a lane over for your four patrol cars to take up space that could be used for normal traffic flow.

I wonder if they are aware of the recession, you know the money problems, or do they find it necessary to take our tax money and spend it blatantly on harassing the very civilians whose money is ripped out of their paycheck in order to pay the salary they earned that night by overpowering the ONE guy eight to one. AND HERE I FAUCKING AM EATING TWO FOR A DOLLAR FRUIT PIE AND FUCKING CANED BEANS AND GENERIC SLOPPY JOE SAUCE. YOU HAD FOUR DIFERENT EIGHT CYLINDER 250 HORSEPOWER GASOLINE POWERED ENGINGES ALL RUNNING TO KEEP YOUR OVERWHELMINGLY BRIGHT SPOTLIGHTS ON THE ONE GUY ALL BURNING UP GAS AT 16 GALLONS PER MILE. you sons of bitches sons of god damned mother fucking (and their fore lesbian(not that there’s anything wrong with that just pointing out the fact) bitches.

FUCK YOU POLICE AND FUCK YOUR DRUG SNIFFING ASSHOLE DOGS TOO.

MidWesterner's invade my living room,

They came from Mini-a-police by way of rented tour van, led by the big boss man (of fashionable idiot recs fame). Sinks tour 09/10(woo party), I dint get a chance to see 'em or hear 'em play. but I've seen 'em in their home turf and drank keg juice in their basement during a snowy enough winter some years back, we had a good time, they arrived drunk so I got 'em drunker. In the morning I fed them with a french recipe (a delicious take on toast). we ran some errands at some record stores and distribution centers then ate more french food this time in the form of Vietnamese sandwiches (pork and cilantro are secret lovers and they make beautiful love babies in ones stomach, but they could always use just a little more spice). Then I subjected them to a forced visit to my bands practice (sorry fellas). This was brought to a delightful balance by a rigorous session of Ghetto Boys tunes and pot smoking. The Buddy Holly glasses sporting Sink was very heavy eyed and his mind was probably on a good float.Hope them boys had a pleasant time. I enjoy seeing the Boss we only cross path a couple short times a year. We shared life in a van for close to a month a couple years back, we drank allot of "energy" laden booze drinks in those days, and ate allot of fatty Midwestern/east coast goodies no heart attacks were suffered but arrests were not scarce. With any luck we will cross once more this year, maybe in Ohio.

We wound down for the night, went for drinks at a favorite haunt of mine back home in the old stomping grounds, a secretly automobile themed dive on fourth street. Cougar trap and I had the English brown ale (in the bottle, the coldest in town, really has to be, it has got to be at 20 degrees maybe lower, somewhere at the cusp of freezing), the girlfriend had a martini(two olives). I really wish they hadn't removed some of the elements they've removed from this place primarily the little blue touch screen box containing a charming game titled titty hunt (a whats different in these two photos type, with a slightly pornographic twist). Entertainment did not lack I was able to strike up conversation with an old boat dwelling hermit he was full of hatred for the young, and was very happy to have recently relocated here from the frost bitten wilds of the Midwest "look at me I'm wearing shorts. its January, you lucky son-a-bitch, its good here."

Dinner came, and it was french again (this time on the side by way of potato). We went for burgers, on fourth further east a great old place with a girls name and an illusive parking lot (confusingly placed across the street kitty corner) "the best burger in town" (as far as beef is concerned this could be true, for this part of town at least) I had my usual burger with Swiss, dressed it with; pickles, lettuce, light onion, black pepper, NO TOMATO NO SAUCE NO KETCHUP. The girlfriend had a vegie. burg. with a bunch of junk on it. The best thing about this place is it has not yet been infested by the hip or those of yuppie orientation. Across the street from it there is a relatively new place that used to be another place the name of which I can't recall, but it was somewhat better maybe not as hipster friendly. Don't get me wrong its not that I have anything truly against "hipsters" not that i can pinpoint anyway, I don't know why they bother me, it might be there overly priced clothes, their pretend conversation, maybe its the often faux punk vibe they let off, maybe its the stupid words they use or the constant preoccupation with "texting" and "twattering" and "facey spacing" or the way they intensely cling to something suck it dry then move on, or maybe its just I don't feel warmth off them, or maybe I just disagree with the expensive haircuts and the fashion police vibe.

I don't know what it is, But I hope I'm not one of them.

New Years

Came and went, its the second day in now and it doesn't feel like a decade just ended.

We had a show at the house in the garage on the 31st. This time around we strung christmas lights across the drive way, so as to remove some of the darkness in the area it worked well. We improved our lighting, and put up a "painting" inside the car hold. Looked good, I stared at it a good bit when we first hung it, gave it an even better staring at soon's I was nicely soused, and an even better staring yet once the show had ended. The one living in the front and I collaborated on this "painting", Tried to get him to enjoy its site at the end there, but he had long been brought under the table at that point, vomiting neon raspberry from all the wine drinking and pot smoking.

The parade was awful this year too many marching bands stepping in sync to mostly standards not many floats worthy of mention.

At work today I encounterd a guy who I worked with when the place opened. I think I left this job before he did, but he didn't end up returning like me. we didn't do much catching up. we remembered our last days in short anecdotes, then I told him I've been back for some months and he let me in on his recent schooling, current job, I didnt listen well, I couldn't the machines were to loud my hearing is terrible. Theirs still five or six years unaccounted for I'd like to hear his stories and I'd like to tell him mine, I wonder if he drinks. I hate this job.